Almighty Father, whose dear Son, on the night before he suffered, instituted the Sacrament of his Body and Blood: Mercifully grant that we may receive it thankfully in remembrance of Jesus Christ our Lord, who in these holy mysteries gives us a pledge of eternal life; and who now lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen. (BCP 221)
Mark 15:33-36 (NJB)
When the sixth hour came there was darkness over the whole land until the ninth hour.
And at the ninth hour Jesus cried out in a loud voice, ‘Eloi, eloi, lama sabachthani?’ which means, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’
When some of those who stood by heard this, they said, ‘Listen, he is calling on Elijah.’
Someone ran and soaked a sponge in vinegar and, putting it on a reed, gave it to him to drink saying, ‘Wait! And see if Elijah will come to take him down.’
Lamentations 3:1-20 (NJB)
I am the man familiar with misery under the rod of his fury.
He has led and guided me into darkness, not light.
Against none but me does he turn his hand, again and again, all day.
He has wasted my flesh and skin away, has broken my bones.
He has besieged me and made hardship a circlet round my head.
He has forced me to dwell where all is dark,
like those long-dead in their everlasting home.
He has walled me in so that I cannot escape;
he has weighed me down with chains;
even when I shout for help, he shuts out my prayer.
He has closed my way with blocks of stone,
he has obstructed my paths.
For me he is a lurking bear, a lion in hiding.
Heading me off, he has torn me apart, leaving me shattered.
He has bent his bow and used me as a target for his arrows.
He has shot deep into me with shafts from his quiver.
I have become a joke to all my own people, their refrain all day long.
He has given me my fill of bitterness,
he has made me drunk with wormwood.
He has broken my teeth with gravel, he has fed me on ashes.
I have been deprived of peace, I have forgotten what happiness is
and thought, ‘My lasting hope in Yahweh is lost.’
Bring to mind my misery and anguish; it is wormwood and gall!
My heart dwells on this continually and sinks within me.
Body and blood— the essence of life poured out, spilled out, dripped away.
He hangs on the cross, the words at that Last Supper made tangibly, violently actual, offering himself as the new covenant’s sacrifice.
And as the Son of God is made sin for us, he can find no solace, not even in God.